"Stranger in the night, come nigh!"
This she whispereth when the moon was high.
'Twas a white sphere floating softly,
Yet its shadows shan't e'er be less lofty.
Her pure white skin hath the most abominable imperfections,
And her face was obscured by a witch's hat which bore no reflections.
The little hair visible was dark as a raven's coat,
Shiny, shimmering, blacker than a serial killer's rote.